Bloodlust, Written by a Fan Fiction Newbie Options

[The Metal Mallet]

Greetings, I have been a fairly longtime reader of the Fan Fiction section of these forums (back when it was still W4O) as a guest. I thought it was about time to get out of "veil" per se. Hopefully, this Fan Fic will be enjoyable for you guys as your fics have been enjoyed by me. Criticism is always appreciated. Anyways, here it is!


- Bloodlust -

The knife slashed through the man’s throat with ease, causing an eruption of blood to pour out the gaping tare. A shocked gurgle escapes the man’s lips as he begins to pale. The only warmth he feels is the body that is holding him up and the bodily fluid running down his chest. His eyes finally cloud over, still locked in their state of shock. The body is then silently lowered to the ground.

The killer stares down at his latest handiwork. What a rush! The sound of the blade tearing through skin and flesh, the sudden burst of blood spouting out the wound, even the sickly sweet scent of the man’s life force intoxicated him. He inhaled the scent deeply as he bent over to clean off his knife on the man’s shirt. This was just another stepping stone in order to prepare himself for his main goal.

Vengeance, he thought, I will have it soon. I just need to make sure my skills are up to par to get away with this. Hopefully this gets you quivering in those expensive boots of yours as well.

The figure cloaked in darkness exited the alley where he committed his crime, casually integrating with the night’s pedestrians. As he passed a homeless man and his fire barrel, he casually tossed his bloodstained gloves into the flames. An experienced killer will not leave any incriminating evidence. Fortunately he didn’t get any blood on his clothes this time.

After handing the homeless man some coins, he continued on. The journey home was uneventful after that. No one paid any attention to the moderately well-dressed man walking down the street. No one knew the chaotic thoughts running through his mind at the moment. No one knew the pain and suffering he has gone through to get this far, or the lengths to which he’ll go to achieve what he wants. All they see is an average man who prefers black colours and cloaks. No one would suspect he was the one behind the current string of murders that have been happening.

The killer arrived at his home, located in a quiet, peaceful part of Kvatch. As he hung up his cloak, he contemplated his next move. The best approach would be to wait a couple of days before initiating his next murder. There was no need to be hasty and become careless. The point was to get away with his mission in the end; suspicions must be avoided at all costs.

As he climbed into bed, his thoughts were still running through his actions of the night, reliving every beautifully bloody moment. He closed his eyes and knew what his dream was going to be. It has always been the same recently.

Sweet, bloody revenge.

This post has been edited by The Metal Mallet: Jun 19 2006, 05:52 AM

[DarkHunter]

Wow... This is a story to rival ... ummm... (blankspace)

I wonder where has the sudden rush of sadistic story writers come from?

[Mazelure]

I wonder where has the sudden rush of sadistic story writers come from?

From me!!!... but seriously this is a realy good story... it is such a discriptive story... I have not read a story this discriptive in a very long time... so keep the good work coming man ....

This post has been edited by Mazelure: Jun 19 2006, 02:37 AM

[Lord Revan]

mmm... well you've got me stuck , I wait with anticipation for the next update

[The Metal Mallet]

Sadistic am I? Well that could certainly change, for all you know this could all be a dream and the killer actually loves to snuggle bunnies and chipmunks and such.... Oh who am I kidding! The character himself is sadistic. On with more!

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A small ray of sunlight splashing across the eyes of Count Vernon Goldwine causes him to wake. Muttering curses, Goldwine rolls over and tries to fall back asleep. After a few moments he throws off the sheets and sits up. There was no point. Once he was awake, he was awake.

Goldwine drags himself into his washroom to prepare himself for the day. Ideally, Goldwine always wants to look his best when taking care of Kvatch’s daily procedures. While splashing water onto his face, the Count stares at himself in the mirror.

“You’re not the young and handsome man you used to be are you, Vernon?” Goldwine asks his reflection. The only remains of his youth are contained in his eyes. They still spark and cackle with the power of his youth. Unyielding, determined, and sharp. The rest of him has followed his age; his stomach protrudes, his once lush brown hair is now thinning and flecked with grey, even his face has become creased and saggy.

A rapping on his bedroom door causes the Count to choke on his toothpaste as he was brushing.

“Sir, I have some mess-”.

“Dammit, Brixley! Just leave my messages down in front of the door! You know I don’t like being disturbed in the morning!” Goldwine yells, cutting off his butler.

“Certainly, sir,” comes the humble reply from the butler, his footsteps all ready receding.

A few minutes later, Goldwine steps out of his bedroom dressed in an expensive robe and cloak. Today he felt formal. He bends over and picks up the messages Brixley left then begins to stroll down the hallway, reading the messages.

Tax reports, town coffers reports, wage schedules for his employees, an upcoming court case that needed to be held, all seemed like usual daily messages. The next message was an article taken out of the Black Horse Courier. Scanning the headline alone stopped the Count dead in his tracks. He looked up, hoping the next time he looked down at the article it would change. He looked down, and reread the headline:

MYSTERY KILLER SLAYS ANOTHER TOWN GUARD

All of Kvatch Castle could hear the yell of fury that came from their beloved Count.

“This is the fourth time! The FOURTH!! What does Savlian thinks he’s doing!? Brixley!”.

Almost immediately, Brixley appears, “Yes sir?”.

“I would like my Captain of the Guard to attend lunch with me today. We have things to discuss”.

“I will see to it, sir” the humble Breton replies.

“Good. Things are beginning to become unsettling around here…”.

[jack cloudy]

Well, I won't call you sadistic.
But I have to agree that lately stories seem to have gotten a bit bloodier and more destructive. Still, I like your story.

[The Metal Mallet]

Well, lets just say that the fanfic reflects the ESRB rating of the game. Though I purchased it while it was still rated Teen. I'm trying to keep it at a Teen level content because the forum suggest that. So if I do go overboard, just give me a heads up and I'll get to editing. Thanks for the comments so far!

[minque]

Ohaha......cruelty, thy name is The metal Mallet!!! Well written story, I´ll keep an eye on this one!

[Lord Revan]

your still going on strong, Mallet keep it up!

[The Metal Mallet]

It's always nice to have an ego boost when a moderator comments on your fic! Hopefully it won't go to my head too much.... I RULE HAHAHA!!!.... Oops, sorry. Anyways, back to the story!

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Captain Savlian Matius expected the message to attend Count Goldwine’s lunch this afternoon, considering what happened the previous night. Another one of his men were found dead in an alley with their throat slit. This would be the fourth guard taken out by, most likely, the same person who murdered the previous three. All of them were identical, and they were all found in the same vicinity. Obviously, this person had a personal grudge against authority. The scary part about the situation was that the murderer was skilled. No witnesses, no fingerprints, no suitable evidence whatsoever. The person was a ghost.

His thoughts were still troubled as he entered the dining room of Count Goldwine’s castle. The Count was all ready helping himself to his venison, but Savlian still snapped a salute to avoid insulting Goldwine. He knew about his short temper. Goldwine waved him over to a chair by his side, chewing his venison the entire time. Supposedly, the Count does not need to show the same courtesy as Savlian.

“So,” Goldwine begins, still working on the meat in his mouth, “I think you know the reason why I asked you to come see me today, correct?”.

Savlian knew he had to choose his words wisely to avoid further anger on the Count’s part. “Yes I do. I now have some ideas to help us out”.

“Oh, so “now” you have some ideas. Good job. It only took you four murders!”.

Dammit, thought Savlian, I all ready have him on his bad side… “Sorry sir. Sometimes it takes drastic events to spur one’s thoughts. The plans I have should work effectively”.

“Okay, lets hear them,” Goldwine says dismissively.

“Well, all of the murders were done in secluded spots and the man was obviously alone at the time because we don’t have witnesses. So, if we just keep the guard away from these secluded spots, they won’t fall into a trap. Also, if we keep the guards in pairs, at the least, then that should deter the killer because you can’t silently kill two men. One of them will notice what’s happening, then, being the trained fighters that they are, they should be able to apprehend or kill the murderer. Once the element of surprize is broken, the murderer more than likely will give up”.

“Sounds effective enough. But I warn you now, I’m not pleased with your progress on catching our culprit. I want someone to hang for this, not laugh about it once they’ve had their fill of killing since it has become too dangerous for them,” Goldwine scolded Savlian as if he were a child, “Now go see to your duties”.

Savlian snapped another salute as he rose from the table and left. He didn’t even had a chance to have at least one bite of that venison. Damn that greedy Count.


Later on...

The soldiers within the barracks could tell by the loud bang of a slamming door that the Captain was in a bad mood. Throughout the day, all conversation was about the previous night’s murder. Now they were about to hear the backlash from the Captain.

“Men, gather around. Right now,” Savlian ordered the men. He took a deep breath to try to calm himself down. He knew he shouldn’t take out his frustrations out on his men. They were doing the best they could, considering the situation. So was he, but they needed some headway in the case. If he didn’t, for all he knew the Count would put the rope around his neck. Therefore, the sooner this killer was caught, the better.

“How did the meeting with the Count go Cap?” one of the soldiers asked ignorantly.

“He isn’t pleased. For the most part that’s my fault since the investigations have not been doing well and preventative measures haven’t been made. But the latter will be fixed as of this moment. From now on, while you are out on your patrols, you will remain in groups of two at the least. I suggest three but I’m leaving that up to you. Also, use extreme caution when entering the alleys, I would even go as far as to avoid them unless it is absolutely necessary to investigate them. You all know that has been where this person strikes so be smart. I don’t want any heroes,” Matius says, looking sternly around the room, making sure each man understands. He then smirks, “Leave the hero stuff to me”.

His small joke brings a few chuckles from the men, or a couple of smiles. One must do things like that during trying times like these. Everything can’t just be doom and gloom. There needs to some light for which someone can try to hold on and pull themselves out of the darkness. Or else, how can hope exist at all? Without hope, there’s nothing to strive for, and then all is lost to our own personal darkness. Yes, sometimes just lightening up the mood with a laugh reminds someone that there is still some light to cling to.

“In light of the new patrol procedure, I will have a new patrol schedule set up. These changes are immediate. It works just like the old one, the only difference is that you include who is patrolling with you,” Savlian states and he takes down the old schedule and posts the new one, “Oh yes, and it’s first come, first serve for timeslots”.

With that statement, the entire barracks decides to hurry over to the schedule and Savlian Matius decides to take his leave of the barracks to visit the latest crime scene.

[Kiln]

I wonder where has the sudden rush of sadistic story writers come from?

If I were to guess I'd say Mazelure.

Anyways its the first time I'd seen this story man so I was pretty surprised to see how many updates were here...so much content and its filled with violence and drama...very interesting, please continue.

[The Metal Mallet]

The first thing Savlian noticed about the crime scene was the acrid scent of decaying blood. It was nauseating. As he finally stepped into the alley, the smell was nearly overwhelming. Surveying the scene, Savlian noticed the Breton resting in a pool of his own blood. Looking around, Savlian could tell that it would’ve been nearly pitch black in the alley; it was likely that the Breton was relieving himself just before the attack happened. There obviously wasn’t a struggle, as the only wound was the deep cut into the throat.

Savlian took a closer look at the Breton. He was young, definitely too young to have this happen to him. Upon seeing the small scar above the right eye, he realized who the victim was. It was Ramone Damaclus. Savlian had given him that scar in a training accident. The fool was trying to show off his sword skills during sparring practice. Ramone tried a risky move on Savlian which led to Savlian smacking him above his eye, opening it up. This brought up the lovely topic of technique versus flashiness. After that event though, Ramone straightened up, he showed some initiative. He had potential, but it was now lost due to carelessness on Savlian’s part. Savlian looked away from the corpse in pained frustration.

I can’t let this happen again. I need to find something. They can’t be perfect. Something must be here…, Savlian thought as he looked around the crime scene, paying careful attention to avoid keeping Damaclus’ corpse in his view for long.

With any case, a profile of the perpetrator can start to form upon studying the crime scene. With the first murder, the death of an Imperial, it was thought that the motive was a personal vendetta with the victim. But new conclusions were made once a similar murder happened. This time a Dark Elf was the victim so now a crime of racism could be excluded. There was also no affiliation between the man and mer, so the personal vendetta was now out of the picture. The only conclusion that could be drawn from the crime scenes was that the killer didn’t like guards. But who could have a vendetta against the whole town guard?

Then it clicked. Former criminals.

Most people when they are arrested aren’t happy about the situation. They often feel they didn’t deserve their sentence, which leads to anger against the guards. So, what if someone was so upset with their sentence that they felt they should punish the guard for what they did? It sounded like the best reason so far. Sensible and it fit the crimes, especially if the crook was arrested for a violent crime, like assault, or attempted murder. All that needed to be done was to monitor released prisoners and see if they were up to anything suspicious. Then act upon the ones who were suspicious. It seemed foolproof in Savlian’s mind.

In the next few days, I’m going to catch you and end this madness, thought Savlian as he left the scene to set his plan in motion.


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I'm surprised I've been able to keep these posts a day going so far. That'll probably change in the future, but it will still be quite frequent over the summer hopefully, I don't see why it shouldn't.

Till the next post.

[Mazelure]

I dont know about you guys but I think that Savlian has the potential to rival Sherlock Homes... Great job Metal Mullet and keep up the good work...

I wonder where has the sudden rush of sadistic story writers come from?

If I were to guess I'd say Mazelure.

That is so sweet Kiln... but I could not have possibly drawn in all this artist by myself... or did I?... I dont know... thats for you to answer... but thanks anyways...

[DarkHunter]

I suppose this guy IS sherlock holmes... Of TES!

[The Metal Mallet]

Great job Metal Mullet biggrin.gif and keep up the good work...

My hair might grow long in the back, but I hope to avoid mullets at all cost! I think they would look terrible on me. Of course, this is all in good humor.

The Sherlock Holmes comments are quite flattering But I do see the relation, forensics can't really exist in either of those times. And right now, I can't see cases being solved with magic. So logical deduction would fit the best in TES.

Anyways, thanks for commenting so far, on with more!


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With Captain Matius dealt with for the day, the Count could now continue with the rest of the day’s more… rewarding duties. Tax collections. Oh how the Count loved collecting his money. He had a nice comfortable sum locked away in the town’s coffers. Sure, he had to give some of it away due to the provincial laws for pension plans, widower funds, and orphanages, but he could control how much he gave out. This left some people unhappy, angry even, but the Count had long since developed a method to keep these people from voicing their feelings to the public.

It just so happened that his method needed to be invoked today. The proprietor of a local bank was beginning to raise complaints about the insufficient amount of funds to provide for his customers, according to the Count’s observatory network. With situations like these, it is best to have it taken care of before it became a problem. The Count planned on using his problem solver. Seemed logical enough. A problem exists, who better to solve it than a problem solver?

“Brixley!”

Moments later, a soft pattering of feet lets the Count know that Brixley has arrived. “Sir?”

“I need to speak with Hlodir please. Let him know it’s rather urgent.”

“As you wish sir.” With that, Brixley quickly vacates the Count’s room. His footsteps quickly fade away.

Goldwine slides into a more comfortable position in the cushioned chair. He stares intently into the flames in the fireplace, as it was a chilly day in Kvatch, and takes a sip from a vintage Tamika wine. He could all ready hear the septims spilling into his hands.

Meanwhile, in town...

A cry of anguish rises out of the Bosmer as Hlodir nearly breaks his opponent’s hand against the tavern table. Laughter erupts from the rest of the patrons of the tavern as the Bosmer silently sulks away, clutching his injured hand, and Hlodir scoops up his earnings from the “friendly wager” of an arm wrestle. Strangers were always so gullible to Hlodir’s tactics. He enjoyed playing up the stereotypical Nord; a drunken, slow-witted people from the cold, harsh north. Unlike some, Hlodir had brains. Sure he was a drunken brute at heart, he was a Nord, but he enjoyed using his cunning to take advantage of people. Generally strangers, as they were generally ignorant. When they meet Hlodir, they see the massively drunken Nord they expect to find at a tavern. In reality, Hlodir wasn’t drunk, he knew the feeling well enough to put up a showing of being drunk, but his mind was as clear as a Skyrim river in the spring. Once a challenge is made, the stranger thinks they can win a large sum of coin, taking advantage of Hlodir’s drunkenness, but they soon find out that Hlodir is indeed, not drunk. Today the unfortunate Bosmer found that out.

“A round for me friends dear barkeep!” cries Hlodir, which is quickly followed by cheers from the patrons of the tavern. Hlodir returns back to his mead; since his fun for today was done, it would be fine to get drunk now. He downs the large mug quickly, gulping loudly. Upon completion a large bang is heard from the mug being slammed onto the table. A hearty belch follows shortly after. Hlodir sighs happily. There’s nothing better after a fine amount of winnings than a large mug of mead.

Around 3 or 4 mugs latter, Hlodir never was one to remember how many mugs he drank, a tap on his shoulder turns him around. A sneer began to spread across his face from noticing the rags and dirt that covered the fellow, beggars were always bothering him to spare his coinage, but it stopped short once he saw the face. It was Brixley, his employer’s butler. “What do ya want, lapdog?”

“Our employer wishes to speak with you; he said it was rather urgent,” Brixley meekly stated.

“Well you go tell him that I’ll show in the next half hour, I got a drink t’finish,” Hlodir said, all ready returning back to his drink. He knew that Brixley was all ready on his way to the Count. He also knew the limits of Verny’s patience. At least it looked like his fun for today wasn’t going to end. Goldwine always had interesting duties for him. Good thing he wasn’t too drunk yet.

Hlodir the Nord finished off the last of his mead, sat up, fixed his collar on his expensive shirt, then proceeded out the tavern. More earnings were to be made today.


Later on...

Adamus Prophilis, proprietor of the Kvatch local bank was glad the day was about to end. Today had been exceptionally busy; many customers wanted to make transactions but most were left disappointed. He simply couldn’t give out so much money anymore, the town taxes kept pulling money out. It was rather frustrating. Having to deal with complaining customers each and every day made him wish to do something violent. Just something to make them quiet. Anything. Unfortunately, he couldn’t do that to a person. What he could do though, was question why so much money was being taken from him. Taxes normally do not cost that much. Many other establishments seemed to be doing just fine, so why was his business nearly bankrupt? No matter, these were thoughts to think about for another day. For now, Adamus just wanted to get home.

Adamus was just about to lock up the front door and leave out the back when the door popped open. Adamus groaned inwardly. The last minute customer, how I despise you, thought Adamus as he put on his best fake smile for the well-dressed Nord who walked in. “Hello sir, welcome to the Kvatch Bank! How can I help you?”

“Greetings t’ya good sir, I would just like t’make a small deposit this evening. Sorry about arriving so late, am no trouble am I?’ asked the large Nord nicely.

“Absolutely not good sir. Like I say, ‘any business is good business’,” Adamus replied, “Now lets see how much you’re going to deposit.”

The Nord pulled out a rather large purse of septims. Adamus had never dealt with this much money before. This was definitely good business indeed. “Ya see, the situation is that I’m making sure the damn town doesn’t take my money. Taxes have been killing me lately. It almost seems as if they’re trying t’rob me,” the Nord said, looking rather upset about the situation.

So, this poor fellow has the same problem as I do. Maybe I should share my sentiments…

“I know exactly how you feel. I think the town is doing the exact same thing with me. I was actually thinking about complaining to the Count. I now have more incentive to if other people are suffering from this like me,” Adamus said eagerly, hoping the Nord would think it’s a good idea.

“Well that does sound fine and dandy but I gots a better idea. Since the town has been messin’ with you, I think it is your turn t’mess with them. Sounds good, no?” rumbled the large Nord.

“And how would I do that? Do you all ready have an idea?” asked Adamus. He couldn’t believe the good luck he just struck. A way to screw over the Count! It was perfect. It would only take the information this Nord could provide. His wife would be overjoyed!

“Well…,” the Nord looked over at the front door, “I want t’avoid anyone hearing about this. Do ya have a way to make this more private, lad?”

It took a second for Adamus to catch on. “Oh! Sure, it’s past closing time anyways,” he said, attempting to cover up his moment of stupidity. He locked the front door and tugged on it a few times to make sure it was locked. This was a bank, there’s always a chance criminals would want to attempt to break in. “My office is a nice quiet place we can talk about this. Follow me.”

Adamus led the Nord into the back of the bank, where his office was located in a quiet corner. He loved that his office was windowless. There are just too many distractions outside when you need to get work done. Lamps work perfectly fine for light.

“Okay, so what is this pla-” Adamus said while turning around before abruptly being silenced by a mound of flesh compacting with his face.

Flashes of light and darkness filled Adamus’ mind when suddenly he realized he wasn’t standing up anymore. Somehow he had fallen. It was rather confusing; so much that his head hurt. A sudden coppery taste washed upon his tongue. It took a moment for Adamus to realize it was blood. But whose? Surely it couldn’t be his. How could that happen?

He was about to ask that question aloud when suddenly he felt nothing but air between his feet as someone was holding him up. The flashes and fuzziness stopped for a moment to show Adamus that it was his new Nord friend holding him up. How nice, he’s helping me up, I must’ve fainted or something. Work has been so hard on me lately…, he thought.

His thought process began to change when suddenly no one was holding him up anymore, yet there was still air between his feet. He first felt the bone-jarring hit against the wall before he felt his feet crumpled against the floor. Pain racked up and down his body.

“Ya know, ya shouldn’t say things that could get a man hurt in front of strangers. Ya never know who might be listenin’.”

Who was saying that? It sounded familiar but Adamus couldn’t place it. The flashes had returned and the coppery taste in his mouth was making him feel sick. A slap jarred his senses and left the right side of his face numb. A quiet splash of blood hitting the floor was heard.

“Hey! Look at me lad when I’m speaking to ya!” the familiar voice said harshly.

Adamus tried to focus his eyes, he didn’t want to get hit anymore. Everything hurt. What did he do to deserve this? “Please… no more,” he said weakly.

Adamus’ eyes focussed to reveal that it was the Nord who was looking down at him. It wasn’t the same person though. His face was covered in darkness and his eyes burned with hatred. Adamus was petrified.

“Ahhh, so ya want me t’stop, eh? Well the Count does not want to hear anymore talk about your money problems then. Ya see, me job is t’make sure people keep their traps shut. Next time ya see me, I’ll make ya disappear. Understand?”

Adamus nodded slowly.

“Good,” Hlodir said as he brushed himself off, straighten his collar, and headed to the door. Just before exiting he stopped and looked back at the bank proprietor, “Next time ye be careful when going down the stairs, ya hear?”

With that, he was gone.

This post has been edited by The Metal Mallet: Jun 22 2006, 05:35 PM

[jack cloudy]

Corruption, horrible. That count is going down someday. Great update like all the others before.

[DarkHunter]

Woot! Corrupt the World.. I mean.... good story.

[Toroabok]

WOW! AMAZING STORY!!! I like how you fill the couple of days that the murderer is waiting before his next victim with information on what other people are doing! I hope your next instalment is another murder from the umm...well...murderer (he's my fav) keep up the good work!!!

[The Metal Mallet]

I just want to mention something for my piece. For some reason I think I'm having tense issues with some of my paragraphs. I'm not too sure myself, but if anyone notices any tense issues, I'd be grateful if you pointed them out.

For someone with English as their native tongue, it's weird that we can still have problems with this kind of stuff. English, what a fickle language!

On with more!


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Over the last few days, an eerie silence had fallen over the town of Kvatch. The patrons of the town hurried about with their duties. They very rarely stopped to converse with each other. Doors were often locked during the day; even when the residents were still inside. None of them wanted to tempt the “Kvatch Killer”. Just because whoever it was has only been murdering guards, did not mean they wouldn’t move onto the citizens of the town.

Savlian did not like the current situation at all. His guard and the killer had seemed to have reached a stalemate. While Savlian’s new patrol method seemed to be working, his spies for the released convicts had yet to report any suspicious behaviour. It was a stalemate that the killer still had the advantage in. Savlian still had no idea who this person was and until he did, the killer was free to do as they pleased, so long as they kept up the effort of leaving no evidence.

Frustrated, Savlian continued his patrol. Living up to his own plan, he had the rookie, a Redguard by the name of Ferrik, on patrol with him. He was the younger brother of one of the veterans of the force, Henrik. What Savlian intended to do today with Ferrik was teach him the ropes of being a town guard. He wanted to show him what to look for while on patrol, how to take care of situations in a non-lethal matter, and how to follow up on leads given to the guard by citizens. Standard stuff. Ferrik didn’t really need any pointers on how to defend himself. Like most Redguards, his swordsmanship was extraordinary. He still needed to know that the responsibility of a guard is to prevent violence, not provoke it. If a situation could be handled without drawing your weapon, Savlian expected his men to solve it without violence.

It hadn’t always been that way. Before Savlian became the Captain of the Guard, there were many accounts of unnecessary violence of behalf of the guards. After enduring his previous occupation as long as he could, the Captain of the Guard position called to him. He needed to atone for the deeds he committed in his past…

So lost in his thoughts was Savlian, that he didn’t notice the person walking around the corner of the upcoming street and walked right into him.

“Are ye blind lad! Why don’t ya-,” began Hlodir but then noticed who he was talking down to, “Well, would ya looky at this. It do be Savlian! How are ya?”

Savlian’s eyes darkened.

“I’m fine. Now if you’ll excuse us…”

Savlian attempted to continue on but a muscular arm blocked his way. Savlian followed the arm up to Hlodir’s grinning face. “You do know it is an offence to lay your hands on a town guard, correct?”

Hlodir lowered his arm but kept his wide grin. “Well that’s no very nice t’say t’a friend. You must be stressed from this murderer thingy. Have ya caught ‘em yet?” Hlodir asked, faking concern.

A cold stare was the only answer Savlian gave.

“No yet then? Ohwell, I guess ya have things t’do, so I best be leavin’ ya,” Hlodir finished before continuing on his way down the street, chuckling the whole time.

“Umm … sir? What was that about?” Ferrik asked.

“Nothing you need to worry about. Let’s keep going,” replied Savlian coldly.

Savlian hated everything Hlodir represented. He knew about Hlodir’s duties as a “problem solver”. In fact, he knew them quite well, as he first started his work with the Count as his “problem solver”. At first, he thought he was punishing criminals. They payout was excellent, and it was easy to rough up criminals to try to straighten them out, so why not do it? Once he did find out though…



Savlian slammed the scrawny Bosmer onto the table, causing the table to splinter loudly. That wasn’t a problem though, the Bosmer’s farm wasn’t close enough to anything for someone to overhear the “business” that was taking place.

“Okay, you scum, the Count knows what you’ve been saying about him, and he wants your slanders to desist. This is your warning, if we happen to cross each other again in this situation, no one is ever going to see you again. Got that?”

“What are you talking about?” sobbed the Bosmer, “I haven’t said anything criminal. I just said I was being overtaxed…”

“You dirty liar!” Savlian yelled as he grabbed the Bosmer’s arm, twisted it behind his back, and slammed him into the wall violently, “Now admit your slanders, or more pain is going to happen…”

“But I’m not lying! I’m not lying! It was just the taxes! By Talos I swear! Stop please!” wailed the little Bosmer.

Dumbfounded by the Bosmer's outright swearing to Talos, Savlian slowly released his grip on the Bosmer and backed away. He stared at the Bosmer intensely, “You’re not lying are you?”

“Why would I!? I’m just a farmer, what could I do that’s possibly criminal? I can barely afford my home, that’s why I’ve been saying that I’m being overtaxed…”

Speechless, Savlian quickly vacated the small farm. He needed answers from the only person who knew the truth…



The truth from that pained memory was that the Count had lied to him about his “problems” being criminals. They were merely people who were catching onto his money scam on the city who needed their mouths shut. It tore Savlian up inside that he did such horrible things to innocent people. In order to try to make up for what he did, he requested to the Count to be his Captain of his Guard. The Count granted that request and hired Hlodir to take over the “problem solving business”. Unlike Savlian, Hlodir knew exactly that he was hurting innocent people, he relished it. That made Savlian sick to his stomach. He couldn’t do much about it either. If he were to arrest or kill Hlodir, he would be only killing himself as the Count would likely charge Savlian for treason. Savlian now tried to fix things indirectly. He tried to convince the Count to give back more of the money, and lower the taxes on the residents he was overtaxing. He hoped that the little effort he could do would be enough to keep people from openly voicing their complaints.

Savlian sighed. There’s only so much I can do for this town, and it’s still not enough for what I’ve done…

Savlian, now silent continued down the street with Ferrik, who was now concerned about his Captain. But being the rookie that he was, he didn’t know if he should voice his concern. He shrugged inwardly. There must be a lot going on in his mind right now…


Later that night…

The sensation was building up again… “Blood!” it screamed, “Give me blood!”

The pounding of the sensation was beginning to give the killer a headache. This was the worse this sensation had gotten for him so far. Never before had the feeling of reckless… violence been so strong within him. He desired to release his fury upon his enemy immediately. To bathe in his blood, to inhale the wonderful fumes of his life force. He wanted to witness the spark and cackle in his enemy’s eyes fade away to nothingness.

But in order to do that successfully, he needed to wait. He needed to make sure he was ready. He needed to be calm…

“Blood!”

Remember your training…, he told himself, void your mind…

“Blood! It calls! Don’t you hear it!?”

A flash of anguish crossed the killer’s face. Patience! He thought, the time for blood will present itself shortly. Hopefully then this pounding will leave…

The killer strolled casually along the streets of Kvatch, eyes always searching yet not appearing so to the passer-by. Something seemed… different tonight, as if the atmosphere of the town had morphed into something more uncomfortable for him. A hint of reluctance was beginning to creep into his mind. But the raging pulse taking up the core of his mind fended it off into the dark recesses of his mind. There should be no reluctance at all. He was a trained killer. What he ran into, he should be able to deal with. Tonight he would further his conquest.

I can hear the blood spilling all ready, he thought as a smile broke across his face.

[DarkHunter]

Hee hee! Sadistic, Insane and carefully planning... perfect enemy. Too bad about the hero having emotional problems...